


Tumblr Quarantine Prompts

by tisfan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: These prompts were posted to Tumblr at the beginning of the pandemic and I am just now getting around to posting them here. Chapters will be rated with more details about what's in them.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Melinda May/Agent Piper, Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Phil Coulson/Tony Stark
Comments: 117
Kudos: 236





	1. Let's Do the Time Warp Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers do a charity showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show and do bits of the Shadow Cast
> 
> Teen and Up: mild language, suggestive language, cross-dressing

“Slowly turn aroun–”

Bucky took a few steps toward the mirror, then whirled. Tony supposed it was supposed to be graceful, but instead he got his ankles twisted and he went over in a heap.

“Ow.”

“–did I not just say ‘slowly’?”

“I can’t do _slowly_ , babe,” Bucky complained from where he was sprawled on the floor like a drunken streetwalker, one heel on, one off. “The ‘Time Warp’ is not a slow song.”

“Yes, well, you haven’t done the ‘Time Warp’ in five inch platform boots before, have you, Ferngully?”

“I got that reference,” Steve chipped in. Steve was wearing even less clothes than Bucky, sporting a gold brief bottom and nothing else.

“Why do _you_ get that reference?” Tony wondered. “You don’t really seem like the save the rain forests type.”

“I’ve watched a lot of animation,” Steve said, calmly. He was less embarrassed and more bronzed than Tony had expected. “As I like to draw, you know. Before the War, I thought about being an artist. Doing studio animation or comic books might be fun. Besides, saving the planet– that’s kind of what I do, Tony.”

“You take all the fun out of it.” Tony extended a hand and Bucky practically climbed up his arm in order to get back on his feet again. “Can we try it with the shoes again, and just walk? Dancing will come soon enough.”

“I like being Riff Raff,” Clint commented, his wig on askew again. “It suits me. No one expects me to be graceful, or hot, or coordinated. It’s a cush job.”

Natasha, in her Columbia gear, threw a cushion at him. “We expect you to know your queues, Hawkeye.”

“I’m on it,” Clint said, closing his eyes and looking for all the world like a dirty minion that had just climbed out of a dumpster. “I’ve got time while Bucky figures out how to dance in heels.”

“So, how do I look?” Agent Hill asked, coming out of the back room. She had her hair pinned up and back, but with a pull of the hairpin, it would be a disheveled, sexy mess. She leaned back, took a deep breath, and ripped open her shirt. The Velcro gave way with a dramatic ripping sound, and while her bra was white, there was nothing innocent about it.

“Oh, very nice, Janet.” Coulson looked up from where he was sitting. “I would totally marry you.”

“BRAD!” Clint complained.

“Dr. Scott!” Maria added in, because she sort of had to at that point.

Bruce glared at her from the wheelchair they’d rented. “Janet!”

“Rocky!” Bucky shouted, glaring at Steve.

“Bullwinkle!” Tony had no idea who started that, but they went around again, before the stage manager stuck her head in the door. “Good. Are you ready for rehearsal?”

Bucky was steadier on the heels now. “I think so.”

“Great, let’s get out there. We’ve got two run throughs and then performance tonight.”

“Why are we doing this again?” Sam piped up. He was pulling on his leather jacket anyway, showing off biceps. Why had Tony not realized that Sam had _biceps_ before? Nice.

“Because it’s fun? Where’s my hat?”

“You have a strange idea of fun, Magenta.”

“And you love it,” Tony said. “No, no, don’t kiss me, darling, you’ll smear your lipstick.”


	2. Just Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was in a bar fight.
> 
> Tony has to bail him out.

Bucky was, perhaps, one of the few men in the entire world who could pull off the bloody face, stubbled chin, unkempt hair look and still be sexy.

It was decidedly unfair that his boyfriend should be so damned attractive. 

While in jail.

“Where have you been?” Tony hissed at him. “I’ve been up all night, worry about you.”

“Bar fight,” Bucky said. He didn’t even really look ashamed of himself.

“Bar fight? You--”

“They started it,” Bucky said. 

“Yeah? Where are they?” He looked around at the holding cell. Not that any cell on the planet had much hope of holding Bucky when he didn’t want to be held. Generally, though, Bucky didn’t pick fights with the cops anymore, and the cops, in return, learned better than to pick fights with Bucky.

“Hospital.”

“How many?” Tony was already getting his phone out, to call Pepper. This was going to be expensive.

“Twenty-three.”

“Oh, well, you kept it under two dozen, good job at that, Ice-B,” Tony said. “Tell me that they were at least Hydra or something.”

“No, just stupid.”


	3. Don't Freak Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky live in a really, really crappy apartment

The crash from the bathroom sounded ominous.

“Honey?” Tony asked, looking up from his tablet. “You okay?”

There was a long, worrying pause. It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t pulled the shower curtain down before. And their soap dish didn’t stick to the wall quite as well as maybe it should and every once in a while that came detached with a loud clatter. The apartment they’d both called home for the last few years since Tony’s father had disinherited him was nicer than what Bucky had been used to, and somewhat less nice for Tony.

But they were making it work, Tony decided. Provided his boyfriend hadn’t just bashed his head in on the toilet or something horrible.

“Are you bleeding or anything?”

“Um, no?” Bucky asked, which didn’t sound the least bit reassuring. “Don’t come in, an’ like don’t freak out.”

“You get one of those two,” Tony said, putting his tablet aside and sliding out of the bed. He shoved his feet in his slippers because the bathroom was sometimes leaky, and that made the floor a slip-hazard. “So which is it going to be?”

Tony had already made up his mind about the going in part. Bucky sometimes liked to play off that he was invincible, couldn’t be hurt. Probably a side effect of being an amateur mixed martial artist. And Tony would admit, his boyfriend was tougher than most people.

Which didn’t mean he didn’t have bones that could break.

He got fairly close to the bathroom door when something black and sleek and _scuttling_ ran out from under the gap and scurried across the carpet.

Tony bit down on a shriek. Jesus _Fucking_ Christ. The goddamn thing was as big as his thumb and moving like it had places to go and people to murder.

He was trying so hard to adjust to his new life, but he did grow up in a pristine mansion and cockroaches just upset him, so much. He’d never even seen one before moving in with Bucky.

The first time he’d seen one, he’d ended up standing on top of one of the chairs in the kitchen, screaming for Bucky to come kill it.

“Little bastard,” Tony said, and before he could even stop himself or second-guess, his genius brain tracked the critter’s trajectory and stamped on it. 

Crunch.

“Show you.” Tony shuddered once. He’d clean up the mess after checking on Bucky. “Honey?”

“Yeah, okay, but-- there’s a roach in here,” Bucky said, voice a little ashamed. “It fell on me while I was in the shower, an’ I can’t find it.”

Tony looked back at the smear on the floor. “Yeah, that’s not going to be a problem anymore.”


	4. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's got this under control, don't worry...

“Bucky, careful,” Tony cautioned. He was practically biting his fingernails down to the quick.

Ok, so not literally. For one thing, it was hard to bite his fingernails when he was in the armor.

“I’ve got it under control,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “Packages are right where they’re supposed to be. Ain’t you supposed to be taking care of air support anyway? Stop hovering around me an’ get to it.”

“Air support? Is that what you call it?” Tony muttered and got back to his job. “Nat, everything okay with you and Bruce.”

“Hulk not smash,” Bruce said, making his voice deliberately cranky.

“Right, you’re good over there. Hawkeye, how’s my eyes?”

“They’re right on route,” Hawkeye reported. “You’ve got about seven minutes.”

“Good, good, we’re great, we’re fantastic.”

“Did we forget anything?”

“We’re fine, Tony,” Bucky said, coming up behind him and sliding his hands around Tony’s waist. “Now take off that stupid gauntlet an’ get ready to greet your friend.”

“There’s no strawberries, right?”

“Look, we all know Pepper’s allergies,” Nat said, bringing the cake in from the kitchen. It was beautiful. If lopsided. A little lopsided. But that just meant it was homemade, right?

“Presents,” Thor said. “Cake. Banner-- no, no, not you, Banner, I mean, the bann-- Stark, we forgot the banner.”

Tony stopped in the middle of taking off his gauntlet, activated the rocket books, and took off through the Tower. Where had they left the damn banner. Finally!

He got back and was just hanging it in place when Pepper and Rhodey came in through the door.

“Welcome Home, Morgan.”

Pepper squeaked.

The tiny baby girl in her arms didn’t say anything. That was okay, she was only a few days old. Words were expecting a bit much, right?

“Welcome home, Colonel and Mrs. Rhodes,” Thor said. “And your heir, Miss Morgan Rhodes.”

“The baby shower usually comes before the baby,” Rhodey complained, because really, it was Rhodey, and complaining about Tony was in his base DNA. Which probably meant the kid was going to find her Uncle Tony pretty annoying, too.

But that--

That was okay.


	5. Sarcasm Detection System Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can't tell when his boyfriend is being sarcastic or not...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of IronAgent here...

Tony never could decide if the fact that his boyfriend wore pajamas to bed was fuddy duddy or kinda sexy.

Fuddy duddy in that, at least, when Tony staggered to bed several hours later than Agent Boyfriend, Tony wasn’t treated to naked boyfriend sprawled across the bed. Seemed like cheating.

On the other hand, it did mean in the morning, after Tony had slept and morning wood was making an appearance, he had a nice Phil-shaped package to unwrap.

This time, it was decidedly fuddy duddy, because Phil was still sitting up in bed, the Dolce & Gabbana silk was almost like a statement of work. Phil had not yet been to bed, either. And unlike Tony, he wouldn’t be likely to lounge around all day to recover.

“Paperwork got you down, Agent Boyfriend?”

“Let’s just say there’s a little more to my job than tasering reluctant superheroes and trying to track down rogue aliens,” Phil said.

“You could take a vacation,” Tony suggested. That might be nice, actually. Tony had a few pieces of ocean front property, they could just… take a day. Or seven.

“I’m afraid the world would come to an end without me,” Phil said, deadpan. “Vacation is utterly out of the question.”

“Are you being sarcastic? Because it’s hard to tell, you really have that neutral face of disapproval thing down cold. Have you thought of taking up a career as a hotel clerk?”

“Me? Sarcastic? Never,” Phil said. “Besides, what would I even do on vacation? I had vacation once, remember? Tahiti? Magical place?”

Tony shuddered. “Yeah, no, maybe the beach is out, no fruity drinks with umbrellas, no shorefront lounge chaise. Lake, maybe? You like to go fishing? We could go fishing.”

“Do you even know how to fish?”

“No, but I like to think that I’m capable of learning a new skill,” Tony said.

“Hah, and you say I’m sarcastic,” Phil said. 

“No, seriously, I mean, if skiing is your thing, or Vegas, we could go to Vegas. Just have fun, relax, enjoy life,” Tony said.

“Since we’re both on our second ones?”

“To be fair, I think you’re more like on your fifth life,” Tony said. “You would just have to outdo me on the whole dying and coming back to life thing. But seriously, did you ever just kick back and relax? We really should try it. And… you could just lay around in bed all day, forget these ridiculous pajamas. Nudity is a thing, too. I happen to be fond of it.”

Phil’s phone beeped.

“Now what? World coming to an end?”

“No,” Phil said. “My TOR paperwork just got approved.”

“Your?”

“Time off Request, as a matter of fact,” Phil said. “I know it’s not as jaunty as Stark Industries FOAG forms.”

Tony snorted. Fuck off and Go was what he and Pepper had called their vacation plans for years now. “So, vacation?”

“Vacation.”


	6. Fatherhood, what a Concept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony knows he's forgotten something... if he can only just remember...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from Endgame, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

“Tony--”

Pepper’s voice was unusually urgent, but it still didn’t quite get his attention. Lately, all her voice noises had been urgent. If it was really important -- that is to say more important than his development for these inteli-crops and getting them into the field before more people starved to death in the aftermath of the Snap -- she’d throw a shoe--

“Ow!” The shoe hit him in the head and it wasn’t even one of her sexy high heels, but oh, god, when had his wife started wearing Crocs? Ug.

He looked up. “Yes, honey?” 

Pepper was staring at him from the doorway. “Have you heard a word that I said in the last ten minutes.”

Tony scrunched his face up. “Uh, I’m pretty sure the answer to that should be yes, but it’s not.”

Pepper continued to glare at him. “Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Many things, Pep, and I really think I almost have a breakthrough here, for the--”

“Tony! Focus. Specifically, what I said when I said December was going to be very important this year?”

“Uh, you said you needed my help around the house,” Tony said, which was true. The house had been tiny, comparative to the other places where Tony had lived, but there was no staff, and there were a lot of household chores that needed to be done. These days, it wasn’t like he could just throw out dishes rather than washing them.

So, he was learning. He ran through his chores list; dishes, trash was out, he’d mowed the lawn (okay, so technically, the Stark Line Auto-Mower-Raker SLAMr for short had done it, but he designed the damn thing, so technically, it counted, right?) and he’d swept the floor in the kitchen. He was caught up on chores before he started tinkering around.

“And I said--”

Tony grimaced. “Give me a minute, I’ll find it.”

The problem with being a genius is that people expected you to just know things. What they didn’t realize was that Tony’s brain was so crammed full of stuff, and very little of it was organized, that he had to send a search team out if someone asked him his birthday.

Wait, wait… birthday? Birth…

“Oh, shit, you said I needed to pay attention because--” He actually looked at Pepper, letting his eyes do the screen refresh to actually see her, rather than just his most recent memory of her. God, she was huge, when did she get so… “ _pregnant_!”

“Not for much longer, which is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“It’s time to go to the hospital?” Once he’d accessed that file, he was on target. It was still a few days early, but the doctor said that happened a lot, either early or late, no one ever delivered on their due date. But they’d done all the classes and Tony had done a lot of research, and while he was at it, he went ahead and took the classes for Obstetrician -- he would likely never actually need the information to be a baby doctor, and he certainly didn’t have the time for residency or, in fact, the bedside manner to actually be an OB-GYN -- but it wasn’t all that hard.

“That’s what I said.”

“All right,” Tony said. “Bags packed? Did you have a snack? You know they won’t let you eat when you’re there, so have something to eat now.”

“I had a snack, Tony, thanks,” Pepper said. “Bag’s by the door. I need you to drive, and to tell me that having a baby isn’t a mistake, in this crazy world, I mean, what were we thinking, Tony?”

“Pepper? Honey? I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but being with you-- having a baby with you? That wasn’t one of them. So, let’s go have her. I’ll drive.”

“Damn right you will.”

“Also, I’m throwing out these shoes, they’re terrible, if you need comfortable shoes, I can find something else--”

“I love you.”

Tony knew that. He didn’t know why she did, but he was grateful that she did.

“I love you. And you--” he told Pepper’s huge belly. “So, do me a favor. Quick, relatively painless? I’d like to be back here by Monday, okay?”

“I don’t think she’s taking requests right now, Tony, can we please hurry?”

“I’m on it. Grab the bag, I’ll meet you in the driveway.”

Pepper nodded, and Tony grabbed the keys.

Fatherhood.

What a concept.


	7. Is that a Gun in Your Pocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint share a little quality time...
> 
> being captured.
> 
> Hey, a little alone time is a little alone time, right?

“All right,” Agent Philip Coulson said, shifting slightly, “let’s just slowly turn aroun-- did I not just say ‘slowly’?” 

Clint’s movements had turned the chair, but done so in such a drastic manner that they were now spinning, in fact. 

Tied to a fucking office chair, you just had to be kidding, with Clint straddling Phil’s thighs. 

It had originally just been Phil tied to the chair, hands cuffed to the armrests, ankles locked behind the base. Honestly, the number of times Phil had been captured or interrogated, this one had rated pretty high as far as comfort went, right up until someone found Clint poking around the outside of the warehouse.

Clint was still green, and he’d been struggling and fighting and cursing until someone hit him in the head and he went down for the count.

The bad guys, not having an extra chair, or even half a brain between them, had dumped Clint onto Phil’s lap, cuffing lax arms around Phil’s lower back, and his feet together behind the chair.

It was taking most of Phil’s balance to keep them from spilling over onto the floor, and given that Clint already had a head injury, hitting the concrete floor again was not going to help any.

Phil closed his eyes and waited until the world stopped spinning. 

“Sorry,” Clint said. “Room’s clear, boring, and empty, boss.” He shifted a little bit across Phil’s lap, reminding Phil that Clint was both hot, and completely off limits. He was Clint’s boss, for fuck’s sake, and thinking about how nice Clint felt, straddling his thighs, was not in anyone’s best interests. Especially not the rest of Phil, which didn’t really care about fraternization policies, or how inappropriate this all was.

“How’s your lockpicking skills?” He eyed the gap down to his wrist. It would probably be easier if Clint did it, since he could squeeze really close and get his wrists up near Coulson’s shoulder. 

“Widow gave me a D for probably won’t die,” Clint said.

“Great. Kiss me.”

“What?” 

“My lockpick-- I need to give it to you.”

“Sure thing,” and Clint didn’t even ask for an explanation, he just leaned in and nuzzled at Phil’s mouth, soft and easy.

As far as kisses went, by actual technique, it sort of sucked. Phil worked the lockpick out of its gum lined tube, and then got utterly distracted by the way Clint was teasing the inside of his lip. Phil flicked his tongue, getting the pick up, and Clint out and out moaned, the vibration going straight down Phil’s spine and into his balls.

“Oh,  _ neat _ ,” Clint said, clenching his teeth around the pick as Phil passed it to him. “Why don’t I have all the nifty spy gadgets?”

“Don’t drop that for talking too much,” Phil said. Which would be why Clint didn’t have one.

“Hang on, gonna squeeze ya a bit here,” Clint said, working his arms close together and lifting up. Phil was practically mashed, his face against Clint’s throat as Clint shifted his arms up. Phil’s hips moved without his consent, rocking up against the heat of Clint’s thighs.

“Is that a gun in your pocket, boss, or are you just happy to see me?” Clint was twisting his arm, working the pick in the cuff’s lock, and then. “Ah, yay!” He sat back in Phil’s lap, rubbing one wrist.

“All right, get me, and then I can probably get your legs,” Phil said, trying not to look at Clint’s face, his cheeks pink, lip swollen, eyes blown pupil wide. Yeah, no, the not looking wasn’t happening.

“One minute,” Clint said. “Since I don’t think I’ll get another chance.”

He leaned in and this time, without the excuse of the pick, kissed Phil. His mouth was soft and mobile, his tongue clever, and if the bad guys broke in at any moment and shot them both dead, Phil’s only regret was going to be ending the kiss.

“What did-- you do that for?” Phil asked, as Clint started working the pick on Phil’s cuffs.

“Didn’t think you’d let me, later,” Clint said. “And you didn’t bite me, so I’m going to call it a win.”

Phil shook his head. “You know SHIELD policy,” he started.

“I’ll request detached duty,” Clint said. “We’ll be equals. It’ll work out, if you want it to.” 

Phil’s wrist popped free, and then, a moment later, the other one. 

“I want it to,” Phil decided. Detached duty would mean Clint was in more danger, and he’d be around SHIELD headquarters less, but-- for the chance to build something else, something more, something better. If Clint was willing to take that chance, he’d already been thinking about it.

“Great. Let me bring my ankles up, and let’s blow this joint.”

Clint was nimble and flexible, and his shirt was not tucked in, which was slightly distracting when he arched back and braced his hands on the floor. But Phil got the leg cuffs undone and a moment later, they were ready to leave.

“Here.” He dug out his two hideaways and handed one to Clint. The bad guys hadn’t even bothered to thoroughly search him; a guy in a suit was no threat. 

“Huh,” Clint said. “You really did just have a gun in your pocket.”

“Not  _ just _ .”

“We’re going to talk about that,” Clint said. “In detail.

“Later,” Phil promised. “Now let’s get what we came for and get out of here.”


	8. Worse than Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May has a bad day at work; Piper is there to cheer her up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melinda May/Agent Piper ficlet

The door to the apartment did not slam open, and Melinda did not throw her briefcase on the chair, followed by her tactical vest, her gun belt, and her boots.

She would deny that ever happened, if anyone had the balls to ask her, and probably serve said balls to the accuser. 

Piper knew this as well as she knew her own name. But Melinda was over three hours late getting home without texting first, and Piper also knew that usually meant something stupid had happened. Melinda was a homicide detective, it wasn’t unusual for her to have strange hours, to get called in the middle of the night, or to work several days for fourteen hours at a clip on a case.

But when that happened, Melinda usually had time in between witness questioning and going to the scene to shoot Piper a text.

When she didn’t text, that didn’t mean a murder had happened. That meant police bureaucracy shit had happened. That meant Internal Affairs, or the mayor breathing down their necks, or issues with body-cams and traffic cops.

Those were the days that Melinda hated her job. Constantly being reminded that the police force hated to be watched, hated to justify their actions, hated to be held accountable.

Piper gave the pot on the stove a stir, and then ladled out a serving. “I made you some hot chocolate,” Piper said. “And a grilled cheese sandwich.” The kind with several slices of ooey gooey cheese, tomato, pickles, and a smear of avocado. Comfort food.

“I don’t drink _hot chocolate_ ,” Melinda protested. “That’s a kid’s drink.”

“Not the way I make it,” Piper said, adding two shots of marshmallow-flavored vodka to it. “Now come in here and have something to eat, and drink, and I’ll tell you about my day while _you_ relax.”

Melinda leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching Piper getting a late dinner out on the table. “What would I do without you?”

“You never have to find out.”


	9. Alexander the Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finds a friend and Tony adopts him.

“So, what are we doing toda-- aaarh! What is that thing?”

“Get off the sofa, Tony, it won’t hurt you,” Bucky said. He was laying on the floor, staring intently at something tiny and scaly and slithery.

“It’s a snake!”

“It’s not a snake, it’s a lizard,” Bucky said. “It’s cute. He won’t bite you.”

“What is he doing in our house?”

“Havin’ a hard time on the linoleum. He couldn’t run on it. I tried to catch ‘im to let him out and he ended up in here. Now he’s just sort of warming up in this sunspot here.”

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s not. Come here, look at him, he’s  _ cute _ .”

Tony tentatively climbed down off the couch. “Does he eat people?”

“Oh, give me a break,” Bucky said. “He’s a lizard. He eats crickets and mealworms and stuff.”

“Pretty sure I haven’t got a mealworm in my fridge to offer him as a tribute.” The lizard was about the length of his palm. Mostly brown, with a bright blue tail.

“Stay here,” Bucky told him. “Don’t move too fast, you’ll scare him.”

“I’ll scare him,” Tony muttered. 

Bucky got to his feet and went on to the balcony where he started poking around in the potting soil around the decorative planters. “Life forms, life forms, tiny little-- ah, gotcha,” Bucky said, pulling out--

“Are you bringing something else alive into my house to feed the gecko?”

“Skink,” Bucky said, sitting back down cross-legged. “Let’s see if he’s hungry.”

“And what’s that?”

“A cricket.”

He put the cricket down on the carpet, and it hopped, once, twice--

The lizard pounced, and the bug vanished like a magic trick. 

“Wow.” 

“Good boy, Alexander,” Bucky praised the lizard.

“Alexander. Really?”

The lizard ran up Bucky’s flesh hand and vanished into his shirt pocket. “Alexander the Great, in fact.”

“I don’t know whether I’m amused or horrified.”

“Well, here, you carry him for a while, see if he grows on you.”

* * *

_ Half an hour later _

“Stark,” Clint said, dubiously, “there’s a reptile in your pocket.”

“And if you lay a finger on him, I will kill everyone in this room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is the last of that group of prompts. I'm still digging around, I think I didn't post most of my halloween prompts from last year, so... there might be more shorts, but I'll put them in a different "story"
> 
> Thanks everyone who prompted me in march.


End file.
